


Letters to Kili

by Dicey101



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Durincest, Fiki, Incest, Lots of that, M/M, Modern AU, a whole hell of a lot of poetic language, and fluff, and mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5600299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dicey101/pseuds/Dicey101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of letters written to Kili by Fili over the span of several months, letters filled with their memories, filled with their love; letters he never intends to send.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters to Kili

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this since April of 2014. It's the only fic that I've started, left for months, and always come back to. It's been a long ride, but I hope you all enjoy it. This is me starting the new year off with a bang.  
> If you feel like it, leave me some feedback, I love me some feedback.  
> Happy New Year :)

Dear Kili,

Thorin says it will help if I write to you. God, what am I doing? I can’t feel. I can’t think. I can’t write. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. Why am I apologizing? It’s not like you can read this, not like you ever will. He says I shouldn’t send them (even if I know where you are), that this can just be an “exercise” to help me get over you. Get over you. 

It’s been a week, a month, a year? I don’t really know. You know what hurts more than the fact that you’re gone, the memories. Fuck. I’m only doing this because Thorin suggested it, I doubt it will help.  
“Writing your emotions and memories down will help them leave you faster, nephew.” What does he know? But I will. 

Kili, do you remember that summer. Yes, that one. I do. and it’s so vivid now and I want it to leave but I don’t. You. You were so stunningly beautiful with your hair and your cheekbones and that smile. Christ Kili. I can still see it and I hate you for that. I hate you. I don’t. I could never, and that hurts. But everything does right now. 

I took your face in my hands. We were in our meadow. Tall grass blowing everywhere because of that pesky wind. Oh how you used to complain about the wind; whipping your hair about your head so you’d have to brush it back every few seconds. It bothered you so much, but I loved it, it made you look even more beautiful and I don’t even know how. I kissed you. The bees buzzing near our heads, the butterflies flitting about without a damn care in the world. You wove together flowers and made me a crown, laughing as you placed it on my head. The sun shining down on us almost like it adored us; it was there only for us, to shine on us and make us known to the world.

I ran after you, chasing you, you were yelping. I jumped on you and we toppled into the grass, crushing it under our combined weight. I pinned you under me and you let me, cooing softly. I placed the flower crown on your head and you smiled. Our smiles faded and I moved my body against yours, your back arching into me. Our bodies pressing together, fusing together more than they had been before; impossibly close. And I kissed you again.  
Back then we were like the butterflies, Kili.

 

Dear Kili, 

Okay, I counted. It’s been five months since you left. I think the first four were blurs because I can’t remember a thing. But I know they were long, painfully so. Certainly it can’t be just me that feels this aching. You have to. 

But then why did you leave? Maybe you’re feeling it now though. When you drive by a field, one that stretches farther than you can see. Maybe it comes to you when you’re trying to sleep at night and you can feel my body pressed against yours. Maybe.  
Why did you leave. 

 

Kili,

The reasons to which I am still writing these letters are unbeknownst to me. I don’t think they’re helping much at all because the ache I feel at all parts of the day is still there. The ache in my chest, like there’s something missing. You know it, you must. It can’t just be me. Come back to me so our aches can disappear together. 

 

Dear Kili, 

Do you remember when you turned twelve? The day, specifically, not the year. After your party you wanted to be alone with me. The sun was setting, all your friends and guests were leaving. I remember your hair was getting long, really long. Mum made you tie it up into a ponytail for your party. You complained. But you quickly forgot about it. You hastily said goodbye to everyone and practically ripped my arm off as you pulled me out the back door. Mum made us put on sweaters. “Be back soon!” She called from the door, watching us run past the border of our property down the hill to the ravine. How I loved that house in the middle of nowhere. 

You didn’t let go of your steel hold on my arm until we had crossed our makeshift bridge over the small river and past the tree marking our place. Do you remember it? Yes we were young but you should remember. I always will. 

You let go of my arm only to pull me to you. It was a different embrace than all the ones before it in our lives. “Happy Birthday,” I whispered, my fifteen year old-self very confused at your sudden affections. You held me tighter. 

“No,” you said quietly, “it isn’t happy.” I laughed at you and I tried to pull away to see your face but you wouldn’t let me. I finally asked why.  
“Because I’m getting older,” you mumbled almost inaudibly. I laughed again. This time you let me pull you away just slightly, but kept your hands tightly on my forearms.  
“Oh Kili, growing up isn’t so bad,” I told you. You shook your head, tears almost springing from your eyes. 

“If it isn’t so bad why do you always so look so upset.” I was taken back by your words. You made a very convincing argument, although I thought you never saw me when I looked like that. 

“Kili, growing up is something we all have to do.”

“Why?”

I pondered this as you stared intensely at me. Why did we have to grow up? Leave the times of freedom and carelessness and no responsibilities. Thinking about it then, it seemed so unfair. I think you saw any hope of a logical answer for you leave my eyes and you opened your mouth to speak; to tell me 'I told you so'. But I beat you to it.  
“We get older so we can become wiser. We grow up so we can grow into new experiences and adventures.” 

You thought about this for a while. Mouth clamped shut in that way it always was when you weren’t in deep thought but frustrated. All of a sudden I knew what you were going to say. 

“But this is our adventure now, Fili! These are our experiences,” you took a staggered breath, “soon you’ll go off to school and leave me and-” I cut you off, you were making me upset. On your birthday of all days. You had to pull this on your birthday. You were always too smart for your own good; always thinking ahead when your mind should’ve been focused on the now. 

“Then how did we get here? How did we get to this adventure? This experience?” I knew I had outsmarted you this time. You huffed and stomped away. 

 

Dear Kili, 

I woke up today and stared at the ceiling of my flat. It is one of those stupid ceilings with the swirls. Who’s idea was that anyway? Why did I even buy this apartment? It’s small, fragile, and falling apart. I guess we have a lot in common. I stayed there for a while. The pain is just a numbness now at least; it’s still there but I’ve gotten used to ignoring it and forcing it into just numb. 

I’m trying so hard to tell myself that the reason for this isn’t just that you left. Maybe it’s because I have depression. Depression caused by what. Depression caused by you leaving. Everything comes back to you and I hate that. You made yourself the centre of my universe and you left. 

I eventually got up, I suppose I had to. Standing Thorin up at the coffee house would not have ended well for me. I trudged to my small bathroom, turning on the flickering light and reluctantly studied my reflection. I looked so pale. When was the last time I looked in a bloody mirror? I saw my hands come up to touch my face. My eyes had a tired look to them, my skin sallow. Have I been eating? I gave my reflection a challenging stare and had to look away. Tears brimming my eyes. You used to call me your light; your lion. I don’t think I look like him anymore, you wouldn’t think so either. 

I brushed my teeth and my hair and hoped in the shower. I turned the dial all the way to the red side. The scolding water burned my back and neck and I wanted to scream but it felt good too. It didn’t last long because of the shitty building in which I live so the rest of my shower was in the cold. I got out, pulled my hair back into a messy bun, and threw on my faded jeans and a white t-shirt. When was the last time I did laundry? 

I remember you undoing my belt buckle, and trying to slip these jeans down to my ankles hastily, but in your rush they’d only get to my mid-thigh. We never seemed to mind. 

 

I leave my flat and walk down the street to Pret. Luckily it’s not very busy. I see Thorin, reading the newspaper, hair short, stubble controlled. Business suit clean and crisp as always. He sees me and waves, smiling. The smile looks fake. But it always did when it came to Uncle. He gets up and hugs me. I hug back. It feels good to hug someone. He hands me a coffee. I didn’t think he knew what I liked. I take a seat in front of him and he folds up the paper. Smiles at me again. 

“So, how are you?” I knew he was going to ask. Of course. Wasn’t that the whole point of this meet up? To check on me. 

“I’m fine,” I manage to get out after a sip of coffee, it’s warm, he’s been here for a while. The whole time ‘don’t bring him up, please don’t bring him up’ is going through my head. After a few moments of tense silence, Thorin looking at me like he’s expecting something. He really shouldn’t be. He gives me a tight lipped smile and looks down at the cup in his hands. He rubs the star on the cardboard, just as I am. 

“I heard he’s doing well.” Bastard. But I can’t help but look up at him when he mentions you. I can’t help but think ‘why does he know this and not me?’  
I bite my lip and try to breathe. Take a sip, wish it was hot so it would burn my tongue, sharp and sweet; burn my throat as it goes down. I wish a lot of things. I wish you hadn’t of left me like that, that burns the most. 

 

Kili, 

Ori suggested I start to date. If I didn’t know myself better I would have said I laughed when he brought it up. I can’t remember if I did, but I remember wanting too. Even though I rejected the offer tons of time, he still called the guy for me. He knew I wouldn’t if he had left me with a number. The guy’s name is Gimli. From what I hear he’s nice and ‘cute’. 

“Alright,” Ori said, handing me my phone back, “you’ve got a date friday night at The Pony.” The Pony. Do you remember going there for dinner? The Prancing Pony. The only restaurant in town (that isn’t shabby and rundown) that accepts anyone, no matter what. So two men having dinner isn’t frowned upon. Even if people with two heads walked in there, the owners would welcome them with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“Ori I-” I start but he cuts me off. “You better show up, or I will find out, and I will hurt you.” He says, getting really close to my face. I never understood how he can be so small and cute and yet so menacing when he needs to be. I actually feel somewhat threatened. Also intrigued to see what he will do if I don’t go. A part of me doesn’t want to know though. 

“Alright, I’ll show. But no promises that I will enjoy myself.” He nods and we part ways. “You better!” He calls back at me and I almost laugh again. Why didn’t I laugh? 

 

I show up at The Pony at 7pm the next Saturday. I look around for a man who fits the description Ori had given me. Red hair, short, cute, nice-looking. I scan the restaurant and see couples everywhere, straight and not. I almost smile a sad smile. I miss you so much it makes me want to scream at all these people to run. Run as far away as they can, because yes they’re happy now, but we’re all happy at one point. We all have those days, weeks, months or years where we are so full of joy we think nothing will ever be able to steal it away from us; that this light filling every inch of our beings will never diminish. But it does, and I feel an obligation to warn them all not to get to deep; not to let the other person touch their souls and swim through their veins and love them to the core. But I don’t because I see a man walking towards me, smiling shyly. 

“Fili?” He asks me, standing a good amount of space away from me. I respect him immediately. I smile. I don’t know if I actually smiled or if I placed it there by sheer force. ”Hi,” I say, moving closer and taking his hand, “you must be Gimli.” 

He leads me to a small, candle lit table near a hearth. Cozy. Why did we never sit here, Kili? Maybe because you preferred to be by the window, staring out every so often, losing yourself in the view of the impossibly green trees behind the restaurant. I always wondered what you saw when you looked out there. Now I know you saw freedom, freedom was all you ever wanted. Do you have it now? 

We order food and ale. He orders a steak and salad. I order just a salad. I still haven’t been very peckish. We start to talk, he’s a very amiable fellow. I like him alright. He really isn’t too special. But who is now that I’ve had special. Oh I’ve had it. That indescribable something. No one will ever be able to do that to me again, because I gave every piece of that to you, wasted it on you. I hate you for that. 

I try to smile and laugh as much as I can, try to joke, make conversation, light conversation. I really have no clue how I’m doing. He’s not giving away any tell tale signs that he’s weirded out or not enjoying himself. It sounds so strange but I think he likes me. What could he possibly see? 

We finish up dinner and talk for a little longer. We leave the restaurant and I offer to walk him home. He smiles at me, very brightly, and all of a sudden an anchor falls in my stomach. What have I gotten myself into? I’m scared he thinks I want to sleep with him or see him again. I’m actually not sure if I want to or not. I was not expecting this.

I might as well, I have nothing to lose. We walk down the streets of Soho, watching happy people drinking in the middle of the streets, men and men, women and women, not a care at all. That’s part of the reason I love Soho. There’s so much acceptance here, I wonder if Soho accepts me: a heartbroken mess. 

We talk very little, Gimli and I, just smiling at each other now and then. We reach his house, well apartment building. We stand there awkwardly for a few minutes. “So… are you coming up?” Gimli asks me. 

Sheer panic rushes over me like a wave of cold water. My eyes go wide for a second despite myself. He steps closer. Nonono. “Listen, Fili, Ori told me about … well what’s going on,” he says softly, eyes never wavering from my face. The look he has is .. empathetic. He understands. “I don’t mind, really, I will wait for you to be ready and I will try and help.” 

I don’t know why, I have a feeling I never will, but I kissed him. I pulled him closer to me and kissed him. His body went rigid as if he wasn’t expecting it, but soon he melted into the kiss, hands wrapping around me. I heard hoops and hollers and whistles coming from somewhere. He never deepened the kiss, I’m glad of that. It stayed soft and needy and thankful and romantic. Romantic. 

He pulled away before I did, breaking the air between us. He stayed close to me, resting his forehead against mine, it was hard for him because he’s shorter than me, shorter than me. We stayed like that for a while, breathing heavily and coming down from the high. “Okay?” He asked finally. “Yeah,” I replied, laughing when I noticed he was still on his tippy toes. He laughed too. We went up to his apartment. 

 

Kili,

Do you know that strange feeling you get when you know you shouldn’t want something to happen; you know it’s not normal to want this thing to happen, but you just can’t help but yearn for it? 

Do you remember the time we ventured out behind our old house farther than we ever had before? Past the ravine, the river, our place, the field. Thinking back I can’t remember why we did it at all. Maybe because that day you were so adamant about seeing a different thing, discovering something new. Almost as though perhaps you figured we’d find a mountain of gold. 

“Fee,” you begged, pulling my arm through the field. “No, Kee, let’s just stay here. You love it here.” You stopped and crossed your arms. Made that face at me. I looked away, your gaze, your face, you know I always said yes to that look. 

“Well if you won’t come with me, I’m going by myself.” You said brazenly. I watched as you walked away, you tried to move fast but the long grass was preventing you from doing so. I laughed, and in turn you attempted to get away from me faster, resulting in your tumbling to the ground. I giggled harder, but when you didn’t get up I rushed to where I had last seen you standing. You were on the ground, hands on your face, back flat against the grass you had flattened with your fall. Sobs were wracking your frame. 

“Kili, are you hurt?” I got down and tried to help you, but you pulled away, hands still blocking me from seeing your face. I reached for you again, and this time you hit me away. I flinched back. I will always remember this Kili, always.

You were sixteen, I was nineteen, I had to leave for college soon, in London. 2 hours drive away from the English countryside in which our home was out in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t have a car, neither did I. You hadn’t let your emotions hit you until then, always so collected you were. I barely ever saw you cry.  
I lunged at you and gathered you into my arms. You were almost the size of me already, something I was quite ashamed of. You fought hard, hitting me, thrashing, sobbing. All the while I was trying to quiet you, not letting you go, not letting you win. 

“You’re leaving me, you’re leaving me” you yelled over and over. It’s sort of ironic now, isn’t it? You were so angry at me, I’d never seen you act like this ever. Eventually you calmed down and stood up, I let you. I don’t know why I let you. I stood up and followed after you, keeping my distance. You were going back towards the house, not towards the unknown. I was glad of that. 

All of a sudden I wished that it would rain. The clouds had been coming in from the south for days and they were grey and pregnant with rain. I begged them to let it go, let it out. To let you feel that it was alright to let things go. I clasped my hands together tightly and whispered to the clouds “rain, please rain, now is the time for it to rain.” Even though you and I had been saying for days “oh, I hope it doesn’t rain!” 

Down it came, slowly at first; a drop on my nose, one dampening a spot on your clothed shoulder, darkening the colour of the fabric. You slowed, feeling the rain. It sped up, our hair and clothes slowly becoming damp. At least then we were out of the long grass. You were still ahead of me, trudging through the mud. I heard you laugh, bitterly, saw your soaked hair hanging limp. You stopped and turned to me, I smiled at you and you smiled back. And you threw your head back and laughed up at the sky. I loved you so much in that moment. You were letting go, if only for a second. 

“Race you!” I yelled over the rain, “you’re on!” you called back. You got a head start but I had always been faster. We ran through the forest, our place, the ravine, slipping here, falling there. Mud getting all over us, almost covering us head to toe, but the downpour quickly washed it away. 

I got to the house first, I touched the brick with the my left hand, it was slimy from the rain. I wiped the green grime off on my pants. I turned around, still panting, “I win!” I shouted. But you had stopped a few yards away from the house. 

“What?” I said it too quietly to be heard over the rain, but I didn’t care, I knew what you were doing. 

“You’re still leaving!” You yelled over the sound of the water crashing into the earth. I began to walk closer to you, big steps, determined steps. I was sick and tired of you making such a fuss about a two hour bloody drive. You began to yell at me again, most likely something foul this time, but I put my hand behind your neck and pulled you towards me, crashing our lips together in a haze of rain and angst and love. 

I was scared, terrified. I didn’t know what had come over me. I felt so sorry. I was going to pull away and tell you how sorry I was. Say ‘maybe now you won’t need me, maybe now I can leave and you won’t care.’ But I was still kissing you. I felt your arms snake around my neck and pull me towards you even closer, leaving no space at all between us, every particle, every millimetre of insignificant space, gone. You wove your hands wantonly into my hair and kissed me back with a power I never knew you had, never knew you could ever posses. My other arm wrapped around your frail waist which was getting wider as you grew but no less beautiful; and we stood there, desperately kissing as the rain relentlessly came down. 

 

Dear Kili, 

I slept with him. I woke up beside him in his bed. White sheets, white comforter, white pillows. Something red on the sheets, also something sticky. I tried to remember what had happened. It took a while for it to come flooding back into my mind. We’d kissed, went up to his apartment. Why did I do that? I am the biggest idiot. Now he’s going to want to see me again and if I don’t then it’ll look like I used him. He was so nice. More things keep coming back to me as I listen to Gimli breathing softly beside me. 

We’d went up to his flat, started kissing, kissing a lot, heavily and deep. I guess I needed it, and it was taking my mind off of everything. So we went to his bedroom and fucked. Just fucked, I don’t think it was making love. I don’t love him, so how can it be? It must’ve been his first time, that would explain the blood. Did we not use lube? I remember his cries that didn’t take long to turn into grunts and moans. We lasted quite a long time.

I got up and got dressed, as quietly as I could muster. I silently begged Gimli not to wake up. I was almost out the door when I felt guilty for leaving. I should leave him a note or something. Anything. I threaded my hands through my hair and scrambled around looking for a pen and paper. I found a tax envelope and wrote: I’m sorry, I have to work, call me. 

It’ll have to do. I placed it on my side of the bed and I left. I called Ori. “Coffee, now.” 

 

Do you know that feeling in the summer, where it’s scorchingly hot and blistering outside and you’d kill for any kind of drink. You see someone sitting somewhere, at work, on the street, at a park, drinking an iced tea. And in that moment you think ‘why do they deserve that drink more than I do? I should have that drink right now. I need that drink.’

That’s how I felt, exactly how I felt when Ori showed me the picture of you. I think he does it do get some kind of reaction out of me. I wanted to die. You were standing there, hair cut short, helmet on, dirty face, hand around another man. He’s the same height as you, smiling brighter than you….. sandy blond hair. I wanted to scream. You’re in the fucking war and you have a fuck buddy. Where do you find the time? 

Ori asked me how my night was. “Judging by the state of you…” he trailed off and smiled. Ugh. 

“Yeah, alright, we fucked.” Ori smiled a mischievous grin and made a sound like a rawr. Where do I find these people? 

“Thanks for the picture,” I snatched it and left before he could say another word. I turned it over, there, on the back, was your army address. 

 

Dear Kili, 

I sit and I contemplate sending the letters to you. I should. I really should. But I get distracted and start writing to you again, hence this.  
After we kissed in the rain, for quite a while, we went inside. Mum starred at us, gaping, and handed us towels, muttering the whole while about how we were dripping all over her hardwood floors. She didn’t noticed our kiss-bruised lips, and if she did she didn’t say anything. 

We dried off quickly and went upstairs to our separate rooms. We’d got our own rooms only a year or two earlier, mum and dad thought it was about time. I missed talking to you late at night; hearing your sleepy breathing when you fell asleep before me. I loved opening my eyes in the morning and you were right across from me, still asleep, hair in tangles and a smile playing at your lips as you dreamed. I loved that that was the first thing I saw when I awoke. 

But having our own rooms gave us the privacy we needed. But we’d still end up sleeping in the others’ room at least twice a week. The late night talks were a tradition we couldn’t stand to break, and sometimes we just fell asleep before heading back to our own rooms. 

As soon as our doors were closed I ripped off my sopping clothes and had a quick and much needed wank, coming hard and having to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning your name. I cleaned up and got dressed and hung up my wet clothes in the shower down the hall. We crossed paths in the hall and I couldn’t look at you, nor could you look at me. As soon as I was back in my room that dreaded feeling crept it’s way into the pit of my stomach and made home there. Things would never be the same. 

 

That night at dinner, we sat across from each other, as we always did, but we couldn’t look at each other, or at least hold the others’ gaze. I’d catch you staring and you’d look away fast, and vice versa. I think mum noticed, I caught her giving me her signature ‘what the heck is going on, tell me’ signal face. I ignored her. This she could never, ever know. And you know me, normally I told mum everything. She probably suspected we’d had another fight, which was true anyway.  
After dinner I helped them with the dishes and went upstairs to take a shower. I still had that feeling in my stomach. The feeling like I’d lost a brother. But I felt like I’d gained something too. It was killing me not knowing how you felt. 

 

I lay in bed later that night, thinking which one of us was going to go to the others’ room first when just then I heard the telltale sound of the creaking floorboards in the hall, you were coming to mine. I smiled despite myself and let out the breath I felt like I’d been holding since after we’d kissed. My door creaked open and your head popped out from behind it. It was so dark you were just a black silhouette. 

“You awake?” Came your voice, hesitant. I said yes. You closed the door behind you and crept over to my bed, getting in and climbing under the covers. We lay there in silence for a while. All I remember is wanting to touch you, and wanting to hurt myself for wanting that so badly. I wanted to run my fingers through your hair. I wanted to ghost my hands over your neck and chest and to suck marks into your skin. I wanted to hear you whimper my name. I wanted to feel all of you all at once. I needed to. I remember never needing anything like that in my life. 

You moved closer to me and our bare arms touched, and I couldn’t take it anymore, I rolled over on top of you and propped myself up on my elbows. My eyes had adjusted to the dark and I could see you clearly, the light from the moon coming through the window helped too. You were staring up at me, in lust more than shock, some confusion mixed in there too. 

I moved down to try and capture your lips with mine but you stopped me, at first your hand lay on my lips to push me away, then it ended up on my cheek. “We can’t,” you finally spoke, you sounded breathless. You were right. We couldn’t, it was wrong. So, so wrong. 

“I know, it’s wrong but-“ you cut me off, “no, it’s right, Fili, I’ve never felt this.. right before.” You averted your gaze to my lips, you wanted to kiss me too. 

“Then what?” I asked, wanting nothing more than to kiss you and ravish you. 

“You’re leaving for college, we can’t start this when you’re about to leave.” I wanted to laugh but I knew you were right. We stayed like that for a while. I moved beside you, staying close and pulling you closer to me, laying so close our lips were almost touching. We stayed like that for even longer, breathing the same air, wanting to do what we couldn’t. “Come with me,” I whispered. And then you closed the millimetres between us and kissed me with the same need I had been feeling earlier. 

I pulled you on top of me, hands running up and down your body. I pushed my tongue into your mouth as we kissed and you moaned and I was instantly hard and you laughed. Then you pulled back, that look in your eye, and you moved your hips. We were both steadily turned on by then and we whimpered at the friction. I couldn’t take it, I flipped you onto your back, your legs opening for me and I slotted myself in between them and thrust my hips into yours. Your head fell back, hair fanned out on the pillow, neck exposed and I couldn’t help myself. I dipped down and began to bite and nip and suck at the skin of your neck, all while we rutted shamelessly into one another. It became too much and we both came at the same time, breathing heavily and kissing to muffle our groans. 

“Well,” you panted as I fell onto you, burrowing my face in your beautiful neck now covered in marks, “there’s no going back after that.” 

 

Dear Kili, 

He called me. And I agreed to go out with him again. Maybe I like him. I don’t know. Gimli walked to my flat and met me outside on the pavement, a bright smile on his face. We walked down the roads of Soho, he said he had a nice little cafe he wanted to take me too. I didn’t protest. 

We arrived at a small, almost hidden cafe on the outskirts of Soho, star lights hung in the windows, partially covering smiling faces from inside. He held the door open for me and I walked inside. The scent of cinnamon and coffee hit me instantly, and I felt welcome. He lead me over to a seat by the window, all the tables were candlelit. A waiter came over to take our order. They have over thirty types of coffees and lattes. I ordered just a plain cinnamon coffee with toffee whip cream. We had two cookies each and we sat and talked quietly, sipping at our coffee. It was a bit awkward what with what happened the other night and all. 

We left, thanking our waiters, and began to walk the streets. A game started between us, to see if we could find stars in the endless night sky of London. It was difficult and ended in laughs. We arrived outside his flat. 

“Listen, Gimli, I don’t think,” I began, his face instantly fell. I hurried to fix my mistake, “No, no. I’m not, I didn’t mean..” I trailed off and sighed, I laughed bitterly at myself. I tried again 

“I just think, the other night, was too soon to… you know, and I think we should wait a bit before we do that again.” There, I got it out. Not as nicely executed as hoped, but it did the trick. 

Gimli’s eyes lit up again and he laughed for quite a while. “Oh Fili, I’m okay with that, I was actually going to suggest the same thing!” 

I smiled, “good.” I placed a kiss on his cheek, said goodnight and walked off. He stared after me for a minute or two, I could feel his gaze on my back. I went home. I went home to my bed and I cried. This man who was so nice and understanding, and I don’t like him as much as I should. He’s good for me, I know that. But I can’t. I just can’t. Can’t is the only thing I know how to do anymore. I didn’t call him again. 

 

Dear Kili, 

You know when we were kids and we’d watch movies like the Princess Bride and The Mummy, we’d watch Wesley and Buttercup interact, watch them love each other. And we’d wonder if it was even possible to love someone that much, so wholly and unconditionally. 

By then you were probably at the age that you knew better than to rely on movies for facts, that movies weren't real life. I definitely knew. But a part of you always hoped that love like the one between Evie and Rick could be real, that it could happen to you or your parents.  
I think as children, we always thought the love our parents had for each other is true and everlasting. It's the most harsh reality to face when you find out everything you believed in is a lie. That true love is a lie. 

I lost hope growing up, little by little. But when mum and dad broke up, the hope was drained. I wanted to burn all of our VHS tapes that we'd watch and swoon over on rainy days, cuddled up under blankets with a plate of dad's cookies. I wanted to scream at them for lying to me even though I knew better, I fucking knew. 

But you. You were what brought me back. You never lost that whimsical outlook on love. And that day months after we had first kissed. We walked until we came to our hide out as children. Underneath the stone railway wall where there were tiny supports carved out of the stone like a tunnel through a mountain. It seemed that big when we were children. Returning there as adults, we could only stand up before our heads almost hit the stone above. 

That one day we went there and we made love for the first time in the same place we used to play pirate treasure hunters as children, it woke something up inside of me that I realized had only been sleeping.

I had you pressed up against the cold stone wall of the tunnel, your legs wrapped tightly around my waist, and when I pushed into you that first time and your eyelids fluttered shut and your mouth fell open, I believed in that undying love again. The way you held me so tightly as we rocked together brought me back, and I found myself mouthing my love for you along your jaw and neck as you moaned and shook and made promises you never kept.

Afterwards we lay there, by then we had fallen to the ground. I thanked the gods that we had remembered to bring a blanket. I held you in my arms, you were still trembling. I kissed your forehead and you moved your head up and kissed me. 

“I love you,” I mumbled against your lips. A tiny sort of sob escaped you and you deepened the kiss. 

I made love to you again, this time slowly, with you beneath me, hair fanned out on the plaid blanket and eyes searching mine. “I found you, I found where I belong,” you whispered to me. I shattered into a million pieces and you put me together again.

 

After that day, I never doubted those cliche romance movies again, because I'd had that kind of love. I'd had it with you and you with me and I still feel it every damn day but you don't. It's funny how along the line somewhere we switched like that. I believe and you do not. There was once a time when I never thought that possible. Then again there was a time when I never thought it possible for us to be apart.

 

Dear Kili, 

That’s all you ever wanted. Was to find where you belonged. We both thought you had. I wonder if you’ve found it now. 

Gimli called me. He told me had found someone new, someone who wanted what he wanted and was ready. I told him I understood. I feel numb again. 

 

Dear Kili, 

You know that feeling when you’re cold, freezing. Your skin may feel warm but you know it’s cold, you can feel it everywhere. And then you step outside and the sun hits your skin, instantly warming you. And you just stand there, letting the warmth kiss you and devour you. You can feel the prickling on your skin as if the cold is standing up and leaving, and the heat is sitting down in it’s place. 

That’s how it felt when you came home. 

 

I opened the door and there you were. I couldn’t speak. I must’ve had the most dumbfounded expression on my face. Your eyes were down, but they slowly moved up and locked with mine. Your bags were in your hands. You were dressed in camo, your hair had grown longer and it was tied up. 

You shrugged. That’s when I felt it. That warmth. But this time it was as if I had been on the brink of freezing to death and then someone threw me in a steaming hot bath. You’re home for good. 

I moved aside and let you in, you moved slowly, as if calculating your movements. I noticed a slight limp as you walked, you were trying to hide it but I could see your small grimace. I hesitated before taking your bags from you. 

“Thanks,” you said. I almost broke down at the sound of your voice, but I held down the broken sob threatening to tear from my lips.

“You can have a seat on the sofa if you’d like.” And there they were, the first words I’d spoken to you in so long. I always thought they’d be crueler, harsher. Meant to tear you apart and make you feel nothing; fill you with remorse. But upon seeing you, I had the startling realization that I don’t hate you. That I’m still very much in love with you, like that day in the meadow. 

I did not want to hurt you, like I’d thought of doing for so long, I wanted to pick you up and carry you to the bedroom. 

You smiled, it didn’t reach your eyes. You sat down, almost perched on the very edge of the sofa. I put your bags down near the hall and came back to you. I stood there not knowing what to say or do. Everything was so surreal. Your eyes were looking around, taking in the neatness of my flat. The records and player stacked in the corner, the small telly, the posters on the walls. It’d been a while since you were here. 

Your eyes flicked to mine. I spoke quickly, and you spoke at the same time. 

“Would you like a cuppa-“

“Could I have a cuppa-“ 

We laughed. Small, but genuine. I felt some of the tension lift from the room. “Sure,” I smiled at you again and walked into the small kitchen. There, on the counter, stacked together were all the letters I’d written to you. I’d put them there that morning, I couldn’t remember why. I picked them up and returned to you. I saw a question in your eyes as I handed them to you. 

“Fili, what-?”

I walked back into the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, watching you from over the counter. You huffed, frustrated with me like you always were, and opened the first letter. 

By the time the kettle had begun to scream and I turned to get cups, you were gone. I heard the door slam. ‘No,’ I thought, ‘this time I will not let him leave, I will not let him run away.’ 

I ran after you, down the hall and stairs and outside into the downpour of rain. You were walking down the street, already soaked from the rain, your hands in your hair.  
“Kili!” I shouted, and you stopped, but you didn’t turn around. I came closer to you, “Kili, remember when you told me you never thought you’d know where you belonged?” My lip trembled and you turned around to face me, even with the rain I could tell you were crying, but you nodded and stepped closer to me.

“Well you belong with me. Kili, you belong with me. You told me that once and you were right.” You choked on a sob but then you were smiling. You smiled because you knew I’d forgiven you. By then I was crying too, “come home with me, Kili. Stay.” 

This time it was you who crushed our lips together in the pouring rain.

 

You’re sound asleep beside me as I write this. Your hair is wild and your lips bruised. You look so beautiful. There’s a thin sheet barely covering you, I could reach out and run my hand over your chest, but I won’t. I must admit, the temptation to wake you and make love to you again is hard to resist. But this is important. 

This is my last letter to you. And I don’t think I’ll let you read it, not yet. I’m going to wait until we’re old and grey, and all of the time we spent apart and lost is all just a bad memory, a distant nightmare that we can barely remember. Because you’re home now. 

I shift and the headboard I’m propped up against creaks, causing you to stir and blink a few times before rolling over and placing kisses on my thigh. 

“What’re you doing?” You mumble at me, words muffled against my skin. 

“Nothing,” I say, “nothing at all.”


End file.
